


Ashes

by DarkGlowingLight, KTfromTHEstix



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Geralt is a University Student, Gratuitous Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Yennefer is a Professor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24735601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkGlowingLight/pseuds/DarkGlowingLight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTfromTHEstix/pseuds/KTfromTHEstix
Summary: Geralt's hot for teacher, and it turns out the teacher is hot for him too.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 27
Kudos: 79





	1. Come On Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Worth it to note he is 18, so if that's creepy turn back. :)
> 
> Ashes, Celine Dion - Deadpool 2  
> Come On Closer, by Jem

He didn’t fit in the desk.

His long legs and broad shoulders made the desk look comical, like an accessory as opposed to a piece of furniture. Her Friday night class was primarily made up of freshman, most of them only interested in partying and wasting their parent’s hard earned money. 

He was different. He showed up to class late and never said a word during it, but his grades were flawless. For some reason she couldn’t picture him studying outside of class. If she had to bet, she’d assume most of his free hours were spent at the gym or plastered against a multitude of beautiful, eager females.

Not that, she pictured him often. Except she had been, and it made her feel dirty and angry. She was a professional, young for a college professor at twenty-four, but her reputation on campus was not one of flappable morals. In fact, she was fairly certain many of her students found her a cold hearted bitch. 

She tore her gaze away from his rich brown curls, head bent over the short test she had just given the class. She certainly didn’t think of his significant height and prominent biceps when she pulled something from a high shelf. She didn’t picture his muscles flexing, damp and warm, while she strained to pry open a heavy jar. Nor did she see him behind her lids when she touched herself at night, wishing for the feel of his rough hands and strong chin instead of her small fingers. 

She was sick, he was a student. Perfectly legal she assumed, but she wished the semester would hurry along so she could return to looking forward to awkward blind dates instead of walking to her car every Friday night class with soaked panties. 

Her students began to hand in their tests and cycle from the room, bidding her quiet “have a nice weekends”. She looked up past her small briefcase, _he_ was still working. She rubbed her thighs together under her short, black dress. It was fall, but the days were still long and humid and she had forgone nylons - that had been a mistake. 

More students set their papers on her desk and filtered out, leaving only a few, and _mister genetic lottery winner_. She stood and began clearing the dry erase board behind her for the next professor. She reached on her tip toes, her tall heels not high enough to reach what the last lazy professor had left high above. Suddenly she felt warmth against her back, and he reached for the eraser in her fingertips, easily wiping away the writing. 

She rocked back on her heels and into a wall of warm muscle. He grunted but didn’t relent, his abs flexing against the small of her back. His cologne filled her senses, Christ, he smelled like Abercrombie and Fitch or something. Mahogany, teakwood, and something that was all man. 

He leaned closer to reach farther across the board, the ridge of what felt like a very prominent erection brushing against her ass. Of course, her lust addled brain lamented, of course he was big. No god creates Adonis and gives him a normal size cock. She bit back a groan. 

Suddenly she remembered that they hadn’t been alone in the classroom, and she jerked to try and see past his chest to the desks behind them. “They’re gone.” She felt his deep voice against her back before she heard it. Fuck _me_ , she thought. Now she would never be able to un-hear that gravely, sinful lilt. 

It was now or never. She had to decide right then and there whether she stepped outside of his arms and pretended like nothing had happened, or she could lean back against him and live on the edge. Yennefer was a good girl, graduated early, always responsible. She was uptight, she’d been called a buzz kill, but her best friend was certain she just needed to get laid. She had scoffed at the thought, but standing there, surrounded by her naughty fantasy, she came unwound. 

She leaned back, his thick thighs warm against the backs of hers, and she ground herself against the fly of his jeans. His hand on the eraser froze, and the other ran across her waist hesitantly, it’s big, warm presence making her heart flutter. He curled his body around her smaller one, sinking his face into the crook of her neck. 

He inhaled her deeply, his rough facial hair scratchy against her tender skin. He groaned, “You smell so good.” The hand at her waist tightened as his hips rolled against hers. She moaned, bracing herself against the white board. He tugged the lacy collar of her dress to the side, kissing her delicate shoulder before dipping his broad tongue into the hollow of her clavicle. 

The strong hand on her waist slid to her belly and he tossed the eraser into the tray, palming her thigh and inching up the hem of her dress. “Geralt.” She breathed. It was the first word she had voiced since distributing the tests an hour ago. 

“Hmmm?” He was openly sucking her neck, his mouth hot and sure. His hands held her close and he shifted his hips, the shallow thrust bringing on a rush of slick between her legs. 

“We shouldn’t.” Even as the words left her mouth, she met his hips on the next slide and urged his hand lower on her stomach. His fingertips on her leg curled around and traced her inner thigh higher until he reached her wet panties. He growled a curse into her throat, exploring the damp lace. So what if she seemed to always wear her cutest underwear only on Fridays, and who cared if she had barely made it to her car last week before pulling them off. 

“Why not?” He tempted her, pushing the lace aside and slipping his fingers between her folds, his fingers working in time with their hips. “Sexy professors don’t like a good fuck?” His thumb brushed her clit and her cry echoed across the empty room. 

Her ability to protest was gone, obliterated. She was writhing and chasing his hand, her pelvis thrusting back against his, unable to hold a steady rhythm to save her life. He slid a thick finger inside her tight channel and she moaned as he dragged it against her inner walls. When he added the second she thought she might come right then and there. She didn’t think she had ever felt so wonderfully full, and it was nothing compared to the bulge grinding against her backside. 

She pushed off the board and let his hand keep her steady. She dug her fingers into the muscle of his thigh and wound her other arm up over her head and into his soft hair. His thumb returned to her clit and he felt her tighten around his fingers. “Oh shit, that’s it baby, come all over my hand.” 

Her breath came in short pants until she stopped breathing all together, her long, ragged moan ringing loud in his ears. The arm banded across her midsection was the only thing keeping her upright as her body convulsed and her legs shook. She leaned her weight back against him, her head lolling against his shoulder. 

He slowed his hand until she brushed him away and he wasted no time licking his fingers clean while her breathing returned back to normal. He groaned as the taste of her hit his tongue, and nearly quit breathing himself when she leaned to lick his thumb, her tongue brushing against his between fingers. 

He chased her tongue until his hand went to her jaw and he sealed his lips over hers. She turned in his arms, her legs steady again, arms locking around his neck and pulling him closer. His big hands squeezed the firm globes of her ass, holding her core tight against his erection. Their tongues explored each other until he pulled away, his forehead resting against hers. “This okay?”

She smiled, her expression soft. “I think it’s a little too late for me to say no.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. 

“Geralt.” She cradled his chin, her touch feather light. “Lock the door.” 

His smile made her knees weak all over again. He held the back of her thighs and lifted her up, her short dress riding high when her legs wrapped around him. Raspberry red fingernails grasped at his tight t-shirt on the way to the door, her lips leaving a wet trail across his cheekbone before she trapped his earlobe between her teeth. 

He threw the lock and pulled the shade over the glass pane. He grunted when she nipped at his neck, focused on the friction of her through his jeans and getting her back to the nearest flat surface. He set her on the corner of the desk, his hands trailing from her thighs up under her dress. He dragged the silky garment past her ribs, his thumbs swiping across the cups of her bra as he went. 

She raised her arms and let him pull it over her head, tossing it over her briefcase. Thank god she’d worn matching lingerie, the one nice set of black lace she had, instead of her plain old cotton. He stared at her, fully clothed himself, and she shivered attempting to cover herself with her hands. 

“No,” he murmured, easing her wrists back to her sides. He took another long, lingering look at her from head to toe. His voice was low, fingertips ghosting over the swell of her breasts, “So fucking hot.” 

Emboldened, she slid down from the desk and grabbed the front of his jeans, popping the buttons and instructing him to lose the shirt. Rugby something or other was over his head and on the floor in a half a second. She hesitated and her mouth went dry when she saw his chest. If _rugby_ did that to a man, it should be part of the core curriculum, mandatory. 

She ran her tongue up his sternum as she unzipped his fly, his warm hands skimming up her bare back. She plunged her hand past the waistband of his boxers and ran her palm down the length of him. He grunted and her shoulders sagged, a curse flying from her lips. He was so _big_.

She backed him up until his calves hit the chair and pulled his jeans and boxers to his knees. His cock was nothing short of magnificent, and based on the shit eating grin on his face he was well aware. She pushed on his muscled thighs until he sat, propped at the edge of her chair, his knees brushing her sides as she knelt between them. 

His wide hazel eyes watched her every move, and the thought crossed her mind that maybe he had fantasied about her too. That while she had writhed in her bed on her fingers, just maybe he’d wrapped his hands around his cock and jerked off to the thought of her on her knees. 

She was hesitant at first, it had been a while, but he groaned at the first touch of her tongue against his sensitive flesh. She licked and cleaned the halo of precum that had gathered at the tip. She wrapped her warm palm around the base of him, as far as it would go, long strokes running up and down while her tongue left him glistening wet.

She made an exaggerated show of licking her lips before she took him into her mouth, her tongue fluttering against the underside. She inhaled a deep breath through her nose, concentrating and lowering herself further as he pushed past the back of her mouth. He let out a frantic curse, gathering up her hair to watch himself disappear past her soft, pink lips. She sank around him warm and wet until her face was pressed against his abdomen.

“I fucking knew it, fuck baby, you’re an angel.” From the look of wonder on his face, she would bet no woman had ever deep throated him that far before. She longed to snark at him that these were the perks of being with a real woman, but it would have to wait. The sheer size of him made it a challenge, but the thrill of rocking his world spurred her on. His hips twitched and she almost lost it, digging her fingernails into the flesh of his thigh as a warning. “I’m sorry, shit,” he pleaded for forgiveness. She soothed the marks with the pads of her fingers and began bobbing over him slowly. 

He kept his hand tangled in her hair, his pupils blown and fixated on the hollow of her cheek and the point where he ended and she began. She thought about what he would feel like, warm and heavy inside her and she moaned, wringing a colorful curse from his open mouth. She didn’t think he was going to last too much longer, his legs were tense under her palms and he was panting. She sped up her passes and he groaned as though he was in immense pain, his grip on the armrest of the chair white knuckled. 

“So damn hot,” he muttered, “Such a filthy girl, taking me so well.” She cupped his balls, and that seemed to tip him toward the edge. “I’m, _fuck_ , if you want, _fuck_!” His pelvis jerked out of his control and she pinned him down with her arm as best she could. His head tipped back and he bellowed something intelligible, his hand holding her wet, warm mouth deep around his cock. 

She swallowed fast to keep up when she felt him warm at the back of her throat, wishing she could see his face as she rocked over him in shallow, slowing motions. Just when she thought he was done, he wasn’t, and his surprised, “Jesus baby, I’m still - _fuck_ ,” told her he was shocked too. 

Finally his shoulders relaxed and his hand eased in her hair. She released him gingerly and he pulled her up for a kiss, undeterred by the slight hint of him on her tongue. His heart was still racing in his chest under her hand, and with a mischievous grin she asked, “Do I pass?” 

“God yes,” he murmured, “‘A’ plus, plus _fucking_ plus.” He palmed her breast, running his hand between her legs and finding her lacy panties absolutely drenched. “But, you’ll have to stay after class for extra tutoring.” He shook his head as though it was a shame. 

He stood up from the chair, shucked off his jeans, and crowded her back against her desk. He reached behind her and twisted the clasp on her bra until it gave. “When you took the test, you forgot your name.” He tsked as he guided the lacy straps down her arms and tossed the garment aside. He leaned back to look at her, her nervous breathing lifting her full breasts under his gaze. 

“That’s funny, I almost always remember to write it.” She played along, closing her eyes when he leaned close, the anticipation of his touch pebbling her nipples. 

“I don’t plan on stopping until you forget it.” She gasped when he finally put his mouth on her, his tongue laving at her nipple before suckling gently. She buried her hand in his soft hair and urged him on, her pulse beating heavy between her legs. He released her with a wet sound, gooseflesh breaking out across her slippery skin when he blew cool air. 

He brought a hand up from where it had been gripping her ass to brush across her overly sensitive skin while he moved to the other side, murmuring how gorgeous she was. He flicked his tongue across her nipple and she arched her back, forcing her flesh past his lips, eager for the same attention given it’s twin. He sucked harder and she sighed his name, his cock already half hard again on her leg. 

Both of his hands fell to push her panties past her hips to the floor, and he abruptly picked her up and set her on the edge of the desk like she weighed nothing. He swirled his tongue and gave her nipple a parting kiss. He leaned behind her and swiped his arm across her desk, sending her pencil cup and a few folders flying in a hail of sticky notes. 

He applied subtle pressure to her shoulders so she would lean back while he kissed and nipped a trail from her throat down past her naval. He had managed to avoid having to go down on any of the girls he’d been with in the past. They’d fawn over the size of his cock and he’d end up exempt from the unpleasant servitude, but now he wished he had bothered to learn what the hell he was doing, because she deserved it. He decided to man up, if she could take his entire cock down her throat he would survive some time with his tongue on her clit. 

He knelt on the floor between her legs, the only thing left on her body were the pointy black heels that reminded him he was about to get his professor off, again. He spread her knees wide and ran this thumbs through her bare, glistening folds. He put his mouth on her, finding her clit and dancing his tongue over the little bud, her thigh twitching under his warm hand and a soft _oh_ on her lips. 

He licked and played for a while before moving lower to press a sloppy kiss to her folds, spreading her open with his hand and pressing the flat of his tongue to her. She moaned and he repeated the action, licking her from bottom to top. He continued, each pass a different speed or pressure, following her mewls of pleasure for what she liked best. 

He slid her legs over his shoulders so he could get closer and his chin dragged along the length of her. She moaned loudly as the five o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw lightly abraded her flushed folds. “Again,” she murmured, her hand finding his curls and guiding his tongue where she craved it most. 

He repeated the motion and wrapped his arm around her leg, adding his thumb on her clit. She moaned again, this one ragged and fading with a whimper. Suddenly he stopped moving all together and she cried out, a frustrated sound echoing in the empty room. “Geralt!” she whined. He smirked against her and resumed, relishing in the sound of his name on her lips. 

He worked his tongue faster and her hand urged him deeper, her hips beginning to rock against his face. This was what his buddies had griped and complained about? What a pack of idiots. She tasted exquisite, vulnerably laid out on the desk at his mercy. He swiped his tongue deeper, enthusiastically thrusting it against her inner walls as she gyrated her hips, her hold on his hair and on the edge of the desk tightening. 

The slight pain on his scalp made him groan, and her breath hitched at the vibrations against her core. He did it again, her pleasured hum his reward. Her breath came in noticeable pants and he watched her belly quiver and her breasts heave in time with his tongue. 

He doubled down on his efforts, intent on driving her over the edge. He moved his mouth back to her clit, taking deep laps at her flesh and sucking hard. “Mmmmm, good boy” she moaned. He bent his fingers and edged his rough knuckles into her core as she ground her hips, laying back against the desk and letting her body ride his face. 

“Oh, _oh_ , Geralt don’t stop!” She pleaded, her tone desperate. He wouldn’t have, even if the Pope himself walked in at that moment. Her muscles tensed and she arched off the desk with a broken wail, her thighs squeezing him tightly to her as she rocked against him. He kept up his movements until her muscles calmed around his hand and she batted him away from her oversensitive clit. 

Her thighs released him but continued to tremble, her expression blissful. Her back was damp and slumped onto the desk, the rapid expanse of her lungs lessening to a normal cadence. 

“Geralt.” She cooed.

He crawled up her body, a smug look on his face, his erection hot and heavy against her leg. She ran her fingers through his hair, straightening the disorder her fervent fingers had created. She guided his wet chin to her lips, her messy kisses cleaning her slick from his strong jaw. She paused, “I can still remember my name.” Her eyes were bright with affection and her challenge. 

“Mmmmmmm,” he nuzzled his nose to hers, “I’ll have to fix that.” He bent and reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. She leaned forward, the photo on his student ID was so handsome, his hesitant smile youthful and charming. 

“If you want, I’m on the pill.” 

He was surprised, but he wasn’t about to question her offer. He stepped back in between her knees and fastened his mouth to hers. She wrapped her arms around his back and massaged the taunt muscles there, inching lower as she went. He slid his hand through her folds and coated his cock from base to tip, just in case. 

He lined up their bodies, braced his hands on her sides and thrust inside her tight heat all the way to the hilt. She cried out, her legs squeezing around his hips to try and protect herself again the intrusion. “Wait a minute, I need…a minute.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder and took a deep breath, willing her body to relax around him. She knew first hand that he was bigger than any man she’d had, but she hadn’t expected him to knock the breath from her lungs. 

Geralt wasn’t breathing at all. He was frozen, eyes pinched shut and jaw clenched in concentration. The pain eased and she righted an errant curl that had fallen over his brow. “Slow.” She whispered, suckling a small bruise against his collarbone. 

He pulled out and thrust again, “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, “ _How_ are you so damn tight?” He didn’t wait for her answer, instead he set an agonizingly slow pace, hoping only that it tortured her as much as it did him. He would end up leaving a handprint on her waist from the tenuous grasp he had on his self control, the other hand taking up residence on her full breast. She was soft where he was hard, dainty where he was solid. He didn’t want to let her go.

She moaned in his ear, her whispers ensuring he knew he was the biggest she’d ever had, that no man had ever made her feel so deliciously full. It wasn’t fair of her, he was struggling to keep it together as it was, but pushing him to his limit was doing the same to her. He picked up his pace at her words, his groan reverberating through his chest as he met her lips for a sloppy kiss. 

Her high heels fell to the floor one after the other with the force of his thrusts and she folded her right leg high and held it to her side. The change in angle sent him even deeper inside her and he cursed, long and loud. “So fucking perfect,” he lamented, “so warm and - _ugh_ , wet.” He licked the side of her face as if to illustrate his point and she nipped at his jaw. He rolled her nipple in his fingers and gave it a squeeze in retaliation. 

Her hurried pants came faster and with more force. “You won’t win, _oh_ , this game Geralt.” 

He changed the angle of his hips and took her leg, tucking it under his arm and letting her muscles relax. “Let me see you play with your clit baby, *pant*, my hands are full. _Shit._ Why can’t I win?” 

“Because of this…” she squeezed her pelvic floor muscles around him and his rhythm faltered with a feral grunt. He groaned, sounding like he was in pain. She found her clit like he asked, but with the wild look on his face she wasn’t sure how long she had. His hips were moving faster now, and she wasn’t sure if he was even aware of it. He would be forgetting his name right along with her. 

She circled her fingers faster and he thrust wildly, his grunts of exertion and pleasure gaining momentum in the crook of her neck. “Don’t you dare finish before I do.” There was no weight behind her words but still he fought it for her. 

He wouldn’t have to struggle for long, the first tremors of her climax cascaded through her body only a few well placed thrusts later. She pulled him close and he watched her chin tip and her violet irises roll back under her lashes as she quaked around him. 

He was gone at the first pull of her core surrounding him, beckoning him deeper. He bent her backward over the desk, his broken bellow drowning out her softer cries, emptying himself in her spasming heat with powerful strokes of his hips. He let out a shaky breath, satisfied and exhausted, when he realized she was still trembling beneath him. 

She had abandoned her clit to dig her hand into his hip so he picked up where she left off, wondering if just maybe… He smirked, “That’s it angel, you can do it, this big cock’s all for you.” She moaned, grinding back down against his fingers and climaxing again. Her legs shook as she rolled her hips, an awestruck expression on her face as she let out a frenzied wail. 

Her legs went weak and her shoulders sagged, breathing through her nose to slow her racing heartbeat. He pulled her off the desk gently, the edge was visibly digging into her back. He set her on her feet, but didn’t let her go, her legs were unsteady. 

Yennefer clung to his shoulders, her cheek pressed to his pectoral. He left one thick arm banded around the small of her back and pushed the fine hair from her damp cheek with the other. “Please tell me that’s not the last time you’re gonna want to do that with me.” 

She hummed out a soft laugh before reaching to press her thumb to his chin, angling his mouth to hers. Their kisses were lazy, slow but firm presses of his lips, as though he might memorize her just in case. He pulled back, “Are you okay?”

She pushed a bit letting him know she was alright to stand, her breathy, “Yeah,” reassuring him. She looked at the clock on the far wall and groaned, they needed to leave before the staff locked the building for the night. 

He grabbed a test from the top of the pile, a pen, and plopped down in the first seat in front of her desk. She gave him an inquiring look and he explained, “Didn’t take the test, too distracted before. I’ll be done in just a minute or two.” 

Her jaw dropped. “Are my exams a joke?” She couldn’t help but smile, he looked ridiculous sitting in the small desk stark naked, his knees jutting out the sides. She had thought before that it was because his legs were so long, but now she knew the real reason was between them.

“Of course not, I’m just a good listener.” He smirked and began scrawling his first answer. 

She hunted down her clothes and dressed, he’d tossed her bra halfway across the room. True to his word it was only a few minutes before he flipped to the other side of the sheet. She righted her desk, her notes crinkled and her pens spilled on the floor. 

Her heels clicked on the tile as she brought his clothes to him, the last two sentences he intended to write spilling onto the page. “Done.” He handed her the paper in exchange for his clothes. He dressed too fast, she longed to spend more time memorizing the glory of his impeccable physique. 

“You had better go first, so no one sees us leave together.” She slipped the last few sheets in her briefcase and reached for her coat. 

“Like hell you’re walking across campus alone, it’s already dark out.” He grabbed the coat before she could and held it open for her. She pulled her curls from the collar and they walked towards the door. 

“What if someone sees us?” She worried her lip. He unlocked the door and she flipped the light switch.

“Then they’ll be wondering how the hell _he_ got _her_ , the same way I am.” She laughed and he pulled the door shut behind them.


	2. Dirty Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the teacher is hot for him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirty Little Secret, All American Rejects

-Yennefer-

She was still in shock over the events of the prior night. Her wet dream come true was also her nightmare. She wasn’t adventurous, she wouldn’t even run a yellow traffic light, but she had crossed the line. She slept with a student, and on the campus at that. 

Geralt was eighteen, technically a grown man, but because he was a student she felt guilty. She had most certainly violated an oath or two in something she signed when she took the job. The shrill ring of the kettle on her stove jolted her from her guilty, self-deprecating thoughts. She stood up slowly from the couch, her fingers pressing into the muscle of her inner thigh, trying to ease the dull ache. He certainly _felt_ like a grown man. 

She made her tea and returned to the nest of blankets, bringing an ice pack for her back where the desk had done a number on her, and a new book her best friend had recommend. Philippa was still in London where Yennefer had grown up, and they were polar opposites. Yennefer too smart for her own good and just as uptight, while Philippa was a lingerie designer who was seemingly afraid of nothing. 

Her phone dinged and she was sure it was her friend, checking in on her and most likely ready to pick on her for her solitary lifestyle. She opened the message without looking only to see a photo of a very impressive, recently recognizable erection, wrapped up in a masculine hand she already knew so well. Her pulse throbbed between her legs at the image. For fuck’s sake, she could still make out the crescent moon shaped marks from her nails digging into his hand. 

She was going to hell. Though, based on the photo, it looked like he wanted to go with her. How the hell had he gotten her number? She decided to fuck with him.

Y: [“Who’s this?”]

She set the phone down and found her place in the book, aptly titled, _Relax That Resting Bitch Face and Find What You’re Looking For In Life_. Philippa would just _love_ if she admitted she was getting dick pics from one of her students. She’d probably bake Yennefer a cake.

Another message, this picture taken from a different angle that included a portion of his ridged abdominals, and text;

G: [“Don’t play that way sweetie.”]

Y: [“How did you get this number?”]

Her phone chimed again, but this time it _was_ her friend, asking what nerdy thing she was up to on a Saturday afternoon. Smirking, she sent her one of the photos, no explanation. He popped up again;

G: [“It’s in your syllabus love.”] … [“Yennefer, I need you.”]

Philippa messaged her back immediately;

P: [“Holy shit sister, since when are you hitting up the porn sites? I’m impressed, my little baby finally got so sick of faking it she decided to run the show on her own.”]

Y: [“It’s not from the internet. It’s from one of my students.”]

Yennefer waited for Philippa’s response anxiously. She was so free with her sexuality, if even _she_ thought it was over the line, Yennefer might crawl into a hole and never return to the world. 

P: [“Baby, you have _got_ to hit that. I’m telling you, if he’s got half a brain he’s gonna rock your world.”]

He sent her another message and she ignored it, frantically typing back to Philippa.

Y: [“He did, after class last night. I’m ashamed, what should I do?”]

Philippa called her and Yennefer answered immediately. She told her everything that happened, and her friend was proud of her for taking a chance, going after what she really wanted. Though truth be told, he all but peeled down her panties before she gave in. What was done was done, and according to Philippa all she could do was Geralt, over and over. 

She opened up his neglected message. A third photo, this one just as erotic as the rest, his thumb pressed where she’d swirled her tongue over him. 

G: [“Can’t finish without you beautiful, we miss you.”]

She bit her lip, her good friend’s voice in her mind when she responded. She cursed and buried her face in the cushions. She’d sent him her address.

———

-Geralt-

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even at eighteen he’d had his share of girls…women, but no one compared to her. She gave as good as she got, met him kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust. He’d been in class long enough to know she was an intelligent person, if on the shy side. With him she’d been brave, and he longed to know just how far she would let him go. 

He hadn’t told his roommates or his London friends a thing, he didn’t want them anywhere near her. He’d come to Chicago from London to diversify his educational portfolio. He wanted to be a reporter, and he needed to spend some time in the U.S. to land his dream job back in England. He didn’t give a shit that she was a few years older than he was, in fact, it was hot. 

He rounded the top of the staircase, and hesitated in front of her door. He knocked softly and she didn’t answer. _Fuck_ , hopefully she hadn’t changed her mind. He touched the handle and to his surprise, it was unlocked. She was asleep on her couch. He shut and locked the door behind him, making a mental note to scold her about leaving it open. 

Her place was neat and tidy, just like he figured it would be. She lay on her back, still in her silky violet pajamas, partially covered with a soft blanket. Setting his helmet on the floor, he put his wallet, keys and phone on her table, and peeled the book from her fingers. He traced her jaw. She was so beautiful, he didn’t know why she let him touch her, but he wasn’t going to give her time to overthink it. 

He knelt his leg between hers and leaned over her, brushing his rough cheek against her soft one. He peppered light kisses over the shell of her ear and she woke slowly, losing her hand in his soft curls. “Mmmm, Geralt -,” he covered her lips with his, her knee climbing higher on his side. 

He started on the little buttons on the front of her shirt, but after the first two he got impatient and ripped it open, little pearlized buttons sailing across the room. She moaned against his lips, their tongues sliding along one another. He broke from her lips and trailed down her tender throat, the few day’s worth of facial hair on his jaw leaving a light pink trail in his wake. 

He cupped her breasts, thumbs dragging over her dusky nipples until they pebbled under his touch. They filled his hands perfectly, it seemed she was made for him in every way. She gasped when he pinched one nipple and flicked his tongue against it’s twin. His face betrayed a flash of a smirk before he circled his lips and suckled, her fingertips dancing against his scalp. Her leg slid up and down his, her breathing harsh when he switched sides. 

She arched into his mouth and he slid his hand around her back. He jerked in surprise when her skin was cold to the touch. He reached behind her back and pulled out the ice pack, raising his eyebrow in confusion. “The desk,” she supplied, and his eyes went wide with realization. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, “let me see.” 

“It’s fine, really.” She reassured him, but he helped her slip her arm from the satin night shirt and slide onto her stomach. 

Sure enough, there was a small bruised patch where her vertebrae had been pushed against the edge of the desk. He stared at her skin, a faraway look in his eyes before he laid his open palm against her hip. There was a light, hand shaped mark there from when he had fought for control of himself the night before. He sized up the print like he couldn’t believe he’d done it. 

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “Do you want me to go?”

She rested her hand on his, “Geralt, it doesn’t hurt at all. I was there when you made it, and it was unbelievably sexy. I don’t want you to go.” She twisted and reached for the collar of his shirt, uncovering the little pink hickey she’d left there. “It’s the same as this, a love mark.” 

“You’re so small, I should have known - “ 

She interrupted him and pulled his lips to hers for a hungry kiss. “If I’m uncomfortable, you’ll know. I kick, I hit, I scratch, and sometimes I bite.” 

“You promise?” The corner of his mouth had quirked up. She was tugging on his shirt and he yanked it off for her. 

“Cross my heart.”

-Yennefer-

He leaned back over her and began massaging her sore muscles, feathering kisses around his hands as he worked. Her breasts were over sensitized from his mouth and it was sweet torture when they brushed against the blanket underneath her. Her thighs were pressed together between his, sliding against each other, her slick no doubt leaving a wet spot on her silky shorts. 

She could feel his erection heavy against her rear, the fly of his jeans coarse against the thin material. She shifted back experimentally and he groaned, “That’s not fair.” He fought to keep himself focused on easing her sore muscles. 

“All is fair in love and war.” She leaned back again before twisting her arm and pulling his hand to her chest. She felt his muscular chest against her back and his lips on her nape as she guided his rough palm over her breast and down her abdomen. “Were you paying attention in class? Who said that quote?” She teased his hand lower, slipping under her shorts so he could feel she wasn’t wearing any panties. 

“I don’t remember his name.” He graveled, this time his hips pressed to hers. 

“Ah, that’s too bad.” She let his fingertips float across the top of her slit and taste the wetness there, before pushing him back toward her navel. 

“He was Greek, oh god, it was the _fucking_ Greeks.” She plunged his fingers between her slick folds. 

“Good boy.” She practically purred. She leaned her head to give him better access to the crook of her neck while he played at her core. She gasped and pressed his hand closer when he found her clit. 

“Lean forward a bit sweet thing.” He whispered, and then disappeared from her back. She propped her elbows against the arm of the sofa and heard his belt hit the floor behind her. He slid her shorts off, spread her knees, and she tossed her head back, her inky curls a stark contrast to her glowing skin. She braced herself for the impact of his hips, but instead, she felt his shoulders settle on the back of her knees. 

She arched her back when she felt his lips on her heated skin. He wrapped his arms around her legs and licked her enthusiastically, circling and tapping her clit until she sunk her hand into his curls and rocked down against him. She moaned, long and loud, her nails digging into the suede material. 

He released one of her legs and teased two fingers at her entrance, his mouth creating lewd, wet noises that rang in her ears. “Geralt,” she whined, “ _Do it_.” He eased his fingers inside her to the knuckle and curled them, searching high for - “ _OH_ ,” that. He matched the rhythm of his tongue to his fingers and she flew. 

Her legs quaked against his ears and his arm flexed as he held her pitching hips to his face. “Ah, ah, _ahhh_!” She didn’t mean to pull his hair so hard, but she couldn’t help it and he growled right along with her lusty wails. 

Her body sagged in satisfaction, and she’d no more than rested her face on her folded hands than he slid from between her legs. He returned a moment later, hands on her hips and his cock hot and hard between her folds. He went as slow as he could, remembering how she had struggled to take him the night before. He peppered wet kisses down her back and she crooned, “Oh, yes,” when was fully seated in her. 

His shallow, deep thrusts rocked her against the arm of the sofa, her breasts following his deliberate pace. He gathered her hair against her neck, intent on watching her face, when a piece tangled and accidentally yanked against her scalp. Her eyes fluttered closed and she cursed. Intrigued, he pulled again and she tightened around him. “You like that baby?” She moaned. 

He moved faster, one hand purposefully gentle on her hip and the other tangled in her shiny locks. She braced herself on the sofa, whimpers and coos driving him on, her hand moving from her breast down between her legs. He felt her little fingers rubbing hurried circles and he shifted the angle of his hips until, “right there, right _there_ ” became her frantic mantra.

“My sweet little professor,” he thrust harder, “likes it so naughty,” he ground out above her. She cried his name as she launched into another climax, the mild pain from her scalp and relentless pistoning of his cock forcing her surrender. 

He had little time to relish in his conquest when the pull of her orgasm threw him into his own. He buried himself deep, with strong snaps of his hips and a few loud, guttural groans. He slumped against her, rolling her onto her side so he could remain wrapped around her for a few extra moments.

She was sure the strong hand splayed across her chest could feel her still racing heart when she fit her hand over his. He laid a tender kiss on the back of her head, mumbling into her hair. “Yes, that was very okay.” She reassured him.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, tucking a few wild curls behind his ear. He was so damn handsome, he would surely have his pick of women for the rest of his life. She tried not to dwell on how jealous that thought made her feel. Instead, she let herself stare, and asked him about the unique gold spot in his left iris. 

He was fighting to stay awake, but he explained, “My dad and granddad both have ‘em.” 

“It’s so handsome, I would bet your son develops it too.” Her voice was soft as she snuggled her cheek back against his arm. 

“I hope not.”

She puzzled over his response for a while, until the deep breaths against her back told her he was asleep. 

———

She woke warm and cozy, his breath fanning the dark curls by her ear. His knees were pushed tight behind hers, both of his heavy arms wrapped around her middle. He was hard against the small of her back and she smiled, poor thing couldn’t help it. 

She needed to use the bathroom and he had her pushed close to the back of the sofa so she needed to wake him. Yennefer danced her fingers over his ribs and he only pulled her closer to his chest, burrowing his face deeper into the crook of her neck. “Geralt.”

He startled awake and slowly realized where he was. “Don’t go,” he murmured, his lips brushing her shoulder. 

“Bathroom, I need to pee.” 

He relented, unfolding his body from hers and making room for her to slide from the couch. He couldn’t resist giving her rear a pinch on her way by. “You’ll pay for that.” She threatened, her tone serious but amusement reflected in her eyes as she walked.

“I’ll wiggle my way out of it, I’m the teacher’s pet.” 

“Petting will certainly be involved,” she teased before disappearing down the hallway

-Geralt-

He stretched, extending his long arms and rolling his muscular shoulders. Geralt padded into her kitchen, the night sky outside her window telling him they’d slept for a few hours. Everything was clean and in it’s place, from her expensive coffee maker to the ironed lines of the towel hanging from her stove. He heard the bathroom door open from around the corner, but instead of Yennefer reappearing, the shower turned on. 

He pivoted on his heel. If that wasn’t an invitation, he didn’t know what was. 

He hesitantly pushed her bathroom door all the way open. The room was decorated in greens, little potted plants lining the only windowsill. Exactly the bathroom one would expect of a mousey little teacher, not a sex goddess that had ruined all other women for him. The glass shower door and walls were fogged, and when he swiped his hand across the door he could see the shampoo already rinsing from her long hair and running down the expanse of her back.

Even though she’d left the door open, he still felt like a creep, coming up behind her in the shower. He opened the glass door loudly, so there was no mistaking his presence, and she reached back for him. He stepped in the stall behind her, the image of her petite and toned body covered in rivulets of dancing water adding to the pull he felt toward her. 

She didn’t turn from the spray, but instead ushered him against her back and guided his hand to her soapy breast. Her nipple was hard under the water spray and he rolled it between his thumb and finger while his erection came to rest against the curve of her derrière. That perfect behind that had him painfully hard against his fly over and over in class, every time she bent for something in a low drawer or leaned against her desk, in those sassy suits and dresses she wore. 

His hand traced down her taunt belly and slid his fingers through her flushed folds, wet with more than water from the shower. He hummed against her collar bone, the spray soaking his wild curls, “Deja vu.” They’d been in the same position the day before, her writhing against his hand, propped up against the white board. “And before you ask if I know, it’s French.” 

His free hand squeezed her other breast and he worked his long fingers deep inside her, his palm sweet friction on her clit. She rocked against his hand and his straining cock, her hands reaching and sliding along any of his skin she could find. “That’s not from my class, don’t tell me you’re fucking your French teacher too?”

She was quiet except for the wet sounds of his hand working fastidiously between her legs and her fast paced breathing. She wasn’t actually asking him, but she _was_. “Absolutely not.” He countered, removing his hand and positioning himself between her legs. She tilted her head back onto his shoulder as he worked himself deeper, her moan echoing in the tiled room. 

“You’re the only teacher I’ll ever want to fuck.” He pinched her clit and her nipple at the same time he pulled back and thrust back inside her to the hilt. She couldn’t hold back a loud “ _Oh!_ ” as she braced her hands on the slippery wall to push back on his thrusts. 

“Bad girl for thinking it.” He licked up the beaded water on her neck and began sucking a noticeable hickey into her skin. “Mine.” He growled low in his throat, tightening his grip with the arm that reached across her front for her nipple. 

“Maybe.” She teased, meeting his hips on each stroke. She slid her leg up and planted it on the lower shelf, conditioner and shaving cream toppling down and skittering across the floor. Neither paid any attention to the noise, the new angle of his thrusts far more enthralling. He pushed harder and her hands slid along the wall. 

He pulled away and she huffed in frustration. She turned and he grabbed the back of her thighs, hefting her up against his torso and she wrapped her knees around his waist. He walked her back under the warm spray before leaning her back against the chilly wall. She shivered and reached in-between them to line up their bodies. 

He groaned when he felt her hand on his cock, already as hard as he’d ever been and turned on beyond belief. She gave him a tug just to torture him before he filled her again, her moan music to his ears. He held her legs up, trying not to bruise her while he bent low to catch her swaying breast in his mouth. 

He flicked and circled her nipple with his tongue while rocking her against the wall, her hands searching his back and tangling in his wet hair. “Harder.” She groaned, her nails raking up his flexing biceps. He snapped his hips harder and she swore, her jaw fell and her head tipped back against the wall. Her cries picked up speed and volume in time with his thrusts and he bit her nipple. 

The wet sound of his skin hitting hers filled his senses when her back bowed, her mouth open and her desire laden pupils dark and unfocused. Her ankles pulled apart behind his back and her legs tightened on either side of his hips, trapping him close while the rest of her body shook. 

She came so hard that he could barely stand it, the pull of her body so forceful he lost his grip on her wet thighs and slid right against her chest. He propped his knee up and pinned her to the wall with a loud grunt, her arm wrapped around his slick back. He shuddered and emptied himself deep, her other hand cradling the back of his head, their cheeks pressed close together. 

He came back to the world slowly, the shower water beating against his back and her small fingers tracing through his hair. He straightened and she began to slide down the wall before he grabbed her. “You alright?” He was almost afraid to ask. He just said hours ago how he didn’t want to hurt her, and then he proceeded to fuck her like an animal against her shower wall. 

She guided his chin down to hers and kissed him softly, her lips just petting his. “Yes.” She answered, “But don’t let go just yet, my legs aren’t working too well at the moment.” 

He tried to temper the shit eating grin that spread over his face but it was useless, until he remembered she was still sore from the prior night. He couldn’t just keep having his way with her, he was being careless. “Here, come here, lean into the water before it runs cold.” He offered. 

She did as he asked and he rinsed her off, his big hands gentle across her back and between her legs as the water sluiced down her body. She turned off the water and he found her towel, wrapping her in it and tossing her over his shoulder as though she weighed no more than a heavy backpack. She squealed, laughing against his back, her hair hanging past her face and dripping water to the floor in a trail behind them. 

He headed to her bedroom when her vision cleared and she realized that under her hands were three brutal looking scars. They ran the length of his back, and before she could place what might have made them, they heard a knock on the door, he froze. “Yennefer, are you alright sweetie?” 

She whispered, “It’s the old man from next door. They’re probably worried.” She raised her voice, “Just a second Mr. Kaplanski!” She squirmed on his shoulder and he set her down gently, the shock of the intrusion pumping adrenaline through her.

She ducked inside the bathroom and grabbed a towel for him and her robe. “Hide in the bedroom?” He did as she asked and she clenched the robe right around her neck, pulling the door open. 

“Is everything okay? Mary Sue said she heard screams and men groaning in pain!”

Geralt listened from the bedroom with a smirk. 

“I’m so sorry to cause you worry. I’m screening a civil war film I may use in class and I left the tv on far too loud when I jumped in the shower. You know the mid-nineteenth century, nobody was keeping their limbs.” She tried to make it too awkward for him to question her. 

“I dare say you’re right. She did say whoever was making the racket would certainly be dead!” He threw up his wrinkled hands.

“Very sorry to upset you, and thank you for your concern.” She smiled sweetly and shut the door. 

-Yennefer-

She walked into her bedroom and he was stark naked. He’d toweled off, his hair jutting in all different directions and he made a big show of pretending to go through her nightstand for _toys_. His smile fell when she didn’t reciprocate. He slid the drawer closed, thinking he’d gone too far.

“Geralt.” She spoke softly. “Your back, are you alright?”

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, the mischief gone from his features.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, but whatever, whoever did that...you’re safe now?”

He nodded. It was visibly painful for him to think about. She stepped between his feet, wrapping her arms around him slowly. 

He cleared his throat. “My dad. It was a long time ago. He liked to use his fists on my mother, until I got big enough to defend her.” She pressed her face into his pectoral, squeezing her arms tighter around him. “When I hit back, he went to the belt. I was twelve when he gave me those, and that day she kicked him out. Haven’t seen him since, so no worries.”

She slid her hands closer to the scars, “Can I?”

“Sure, I mean, they don’t hurt anymore. They’re just ugly as fuck. Most girls want nothing to do with them.”

“Geralt, am I _most girls_? Lay down on your stomach.” 

She pulled back the comforter and he laid down, resting his head on folded arms, while she grabbed the little bottle of oil by the bed. “This is floral, but it relaxes and calms you.”

She straddled his hips and traced along the marks with her fingertips, her soft lips feathered kisses in their wake. She leaned to whisper in his ear, “You’re so strong, such a good man.” The amount of courage it must have taken for him to take blows meant for his mother at that age was astounding. No wonder he didn’t want his child to inherit traits from his father.

She warmed the oils between her palms and rubbed her hands across the firm muscles of his back. “Relax.” She urged, and he tried to let his body go slack. 

“It’s harder than it looks.” His voice was muffled by the back of his hand. “I’ve got a completely naked and unbearably hot woman on my back, and if I work it just right, a pair of perfect nipples that might drag across my shoulder - “

She smirked. “Shhhh,” she stopped his train of thought, “think about calming things. Ocean waves on a beach, or raindrops in a dense forest.”

“We could make love on that beach.” 

She ignored his bait. “A little crab skitters across the sand as the waves roll back, and fourth.” Her motions mimicked the tides in her image, and he closed his eyes, headed to the beach with her. “The waves crash higher each time they make landfall, and a child’s sandcastle begins to wash away as the water cleanses the beach of imperfections.”

His soft snore greeted the next pull of the ocean in her tale.

———  
-Yennefer-

Something crashed in the kitchen and woke her. She made to get up, and realized her entire lower half was stiff, a bit sore. He swore from the other room, her lips curved into a smile at the thought of him struggling with something so mundane as one of her appliances. Memories of the night before filled her senses and combined with those from Friday night in the classroom. Her core throbbed at the thought of his hands on her. 

Any hope of him being _out of her system_ was dashed. He wouldn’t be a simple tryst for her, and when the shine of screwing his professor wore off, he would disappear back to his own life. As he should. She forced herself to shake the feeling of dread that had fallen past her shoulders and got up, stretching her legs and pulling on her robe.

She crept into the kitchen behind him found him in his boxers, struggling with her Italian coffee press. “Come on, come on, _please_ ,” he prodded the machine hopefully. On her table sat a tray, dressed with a plate of delicious looking eggs and toast and a small glass of apple juice. 

She came up behind him, running her hands down his arms and snuggling herself into his back, his skin still smelling lightly of her oils. “I was gonna bring this to you in bed.” He suggested. She wrapped her arms around him and dragged her fingertips through the light patch of hair high on his chest. 

“Looks yummy.” She ran her blunt teeth along the ridge of his shoulder blade. Whether or not she was talking about the food was debatable. 

Coffee finally bubbled from the machine and he rejoiced, turning in her arms as the mug filled. He bent to match his lips to hers, his palms resting on the small of her back. She arched into his kiss and trailed her hand down past the band of his boxers, only to have him pull away. “Ah, ah. Eat first, you didn’t have any dinner last night.” 

She pouted. “What about you?”

“I have the endurance of a thoroughbred stallion. My woman, on the other hand, is small and needs nourishment.” He kept a straight face well. 

She laughed, “If you say so Secretariat. I’ll be sure to test that out once I’ve been fed.” She took the coffee cup he offered her. “Your woman?” She took a sip.

He grabbed the tray and headed for the bedroom. “Is that not true? I don’t make a habit of walking up behind random women and sticking my hand down their panties, only to follow them home the next day.” 

She set the mug on her nightstand and he laid down the tray, propping himself against her headboard and urging her into his lap. “I suppose I don’t make a habit of allowing my students access to my panties…or my bed.” 

He grinned. “Good. I’d hate to have to beat the shit out of a classmate before the end of the semester. I don’t think the student Visa people would be too happy with me.” 

She had been surprised to hear his accent when he finally spoke, it had reminded her of her years growing up outside of London. She’d been in America long enough that her own was easy to hide. 

She took a sip of the juice while he went after the toast. She grabbed one of the two forks and tried the scrambled eggs. “These are really good, what did you put in them?”

“My secret.” He kept pushing more of the eggs over to her side of the plate. “How come you’re not seeing anyone?” He ventured. 

“American men.” She made a face and stuck her tongue out. “That, and I’m too busy to play games.” She put her fork down, full. “Please tell me some young teenage girl isn’t going to come at me in the grocery store, trying to scratch my eyes out.” 

“Finish this, I’ll be offended if you don’t.” He hinted at the rest of the eggs. “I’m not looking for anything long term with an American either. Once I graduate I want to move back to the UK. My mom still needs help.” 

Yennefer nodded. If the deep scars on his back were any indication of what that women lived through, she had no doubt she was still putting her life back together. She shook her head when he tried again to get her to eat more, thanking him for cooking, before he gave in and began cleaning the plate. 

She slid off of his lap and sprawled out on her back next to him, her robe pulling open down the front as it caught on the sheets against her back. She pulled her arm from behind her head, fanning her dark curls wide across the pillow and slipped her hand down between her legs. 

The fork froze in midair, and he watched her small hand work lazy circles, a soft smile on her face. “I’m waiting patiently, finish your breakfast stallion.” She trailed her finger around one of her nipples, watching it pebble under her touch.

The utensil scraped against the plate and he chugged down the rest of the apple juice. He set the tray aside and reached for her free breast, but she stopped him. “Ah, ah. You’ve had your way, my turn. Take off your boxers.” He yanked them down his legs and whipped them across the room in record time. He waited eagerly for her next direction, his quickly hardening erection just as impatient. 

“Lay on your back please.” 

His head hit the pillow fast and he waited, watching her slip her fingers from her clit and bring them to her lips, her tongue darting out to clean them off. He groaned, more blood rushing toward his groin. She got up on her knees languidly, sliding the thin robe down her arms and letting it pool, forgotten the second it left her shoulders. 

-Geralt-

She knelt over his stomach before straddling him. Her back was to him and her body purposefully blocked his view of what she was doing. She tossed her wild curls to the side and bent to lay chaste kisses down his shaft, one of her hands curling around him at the base and the other caressing his balls. She licked and teased him with short motions and the tip of her tongue followed along the veins and ridges under his soft skin. 

“Yennefer.” His tone pleaded with her to have mercy on him, he was unbearably hard and she’d yet to touch where he wanted her most. He leaned forward and grabbed her ankles, slowly sliding her legs up by his shoulders. She gave in and eased her mouth over his sensitive head and all the air left his chest in a great moan. 

She braced her hand on his thigh and he leaned up to swipe his tongue along her folds, plump with arousal and shiny with her slick. She twitched at the unexpected contact before lowering her hips to give him better access. 

He ran his hands over her thighs while he drove his tongue deep, his chin glancing over her clit. She moaned around his cock and he squeezed the firm globes of her ass. She pumped her hand and bobbed her mouth over his swollen flesh, occasionally sliding down to take him all the way. She took him deep again, swallowing and swirling her tongue, a heady groan rumbling up through his chest. 

He reached low and cupped her breast, sliding his mouth to suck hard on her clit. She ground her hips against his face and slurped at him messily, her focus broken by her impending climax. She pulled her mouth away, gripping him in her hand while pressing her face into his muscular thigh, her pants and gasps muffled on his skin. Her toes curled under the pillow and her back bowed, her body taunt until her pleasure began to ebb and she twitched under his tongue. 

She pressed a kiss to his leg, oxygen returning to her lungs, before she shifted away from his mouth and onto the bed next to him. She crawled back up his chest and he kissed her hungrily, his pupils blown dark with arousal. She threw her leg back over his, facing him this time, and slid her body over his. He watched, mesmerized, as her heated skin brushed over his, back and forth until he was coated in her slick. 

He sat up on his elbows to watch her position him at her entrance and slowly lower herself. Inch by torturous inch she took him until she was fully seated and taking deep, measured breaths. “Geralt?”

He simply groaned in response, rapidly losing the fight to stay still inside her. 

“You should write to one of those sex toy companies, and have them make a mold of your cock, you’d make a ton of money.” She rocked forward over his chest and back, digging her fingers into his ribs when he hit home again. “Fuck, women deserve this. I have never,” she rolled her hips again, “felt a man so deep inside,” and again. His eyes were wild. “But they can’t have _you_ ,” his hips raised to meet hers, “because, you’re _mine_.”

She began riding him in earnest, his hands found her hips and he thrust in time with her motions. His voice was ragged. “Fuck, baby,” the bed protested to their wild pace, “I won’t make it if you keep talking like that.” He palmed one of her bouncing breasts and did his best to memorize the image and feel of her in that moment. He could die a happy man so long as the sound of her little moans of pleasure stayed with him. 

“Yes you will, you promised me the endurance of a stallion and -,” his thumb found her clit and he rubbed frantic patterns on the small bundle of nerves. She swore, tipping her head back, her hair swaying with wild abandon as he rocked up into her body. 

He was gone, common sense and his native tongue both lost to him as he panted only her name and shortened even that to keep time with his furious thrusts. “Yennefer, _Yennefer_ , Yen, _Yen_ , YEN!” He bellowed her name before snapping his pelvis to hers hard. He came with the intensity of a runaway freight train, panting and groaning like he was in tremendous pain.

She pitched forward on his chest and rolled her hips tight, “Ugh, _good boy_.” 

He clung to her, practically whimpering as she tightened her muscles and urged him to give her all he had. He shuddered his last below her and she raced to finish, teetering just over the edge again. He sat up and pulled her close, rubbing her clit and nipping at her ear. “My fucking goddess,” he murmured. She wrapped her hands around his back and he grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilting her head and mouthing her neck. 

She gasped loudly and dug her fingers into his shoulders, moaning and shaking against his chest as he pulled on her dark tresses. “Good girl.” He fed her words back to her, the sharp pants of her breath the only reply she could muster. His hold on her hair eased and his big hand rested warm on her back while she trembled. 

-Yenenfer-

He nudged their noses together and she kissed him, her thumb tracing along his strong jaw. He slanted his mouth against hers, their touch gentle and languid. She pulled away and rested her forehead to his. “Another day like this and I’ll need a wheelchair to get around.” She prophesied. 

He grinned. “We’ll get us a pair of those motorized scooters. Save our strength for -“ he wiggled his brow, “other activities.” She went to make a joke about how she’d be needing one before he did, but the thought tightened her chest and made her heart sink.

“I can see us now.” She offered. She was only twenty-four to his eighteen, _fuck_ , eighteen. Six years was rather trivial, but god he was so young. He was different than any other eighteen year old she knew, but she had a feeling that was because he’d had to grow up fast. 

She ran her hands down the scarred skin of his back, pressing kisses to his collarbone as she went. His lips found her temple. He was gentle and caring; horny as fuck, but so was every man his age and apparently she was just as bad. 

He noticed she was drifting. “Hey, you still with me?” He rested his chin on her shoulder and rubbed her back in soothing circles. 

She hugged him back, savoring the feel of her breasts against his chest, his arms so warm and strong around her. “Yeah, I’m here.” Even so, it would only be a matter of time before her presence in life caused issues, or vice versa. The dean of the college would likely ask her to resign if he found out. They couldn’t charge her with anything, but it didn’t look great for the university to have professors and students fraternizing. 

She looked young even for twenty-four, but if her child had just done with a teacher what she and Geralt had, she would burn the woman. She let this go too far, and now it was going to hurt them both. She held him tighter and thanked god he couldn’t see the tear that escaped down her cheek. 

———  
-Geralt-

Calculus was a waste of his life. His Monday afternoon class was dragging on, and he couldn’t wait for it to conclude so he could see her. Every moment they had spent together made him even more enamored with her. She was obviously beautiful, but she was so smart and kind. He wanted her to meet his mother. That sounded batshit crazy, but she was one of a kind and he was going to do his best not to ruin it. Once his mom got over the shock, he knew she would love Yennefer. 

He was getting ahead of himself, but fuck, he didn’t care. The professor dismissed the class and he made a beeline for the door. 

———

She didn’t answer her doorbell right away, but he assumed she had run some unexpected errand. She had papers to grade that day, having gotten nothing done over the weekend. He grinned to himself, _whoops_. He would make it up to her, one way or another. He sent her a text and waited for a little over an hour to see if she’d show. Disappointed, he climbed back on his motorcycle and rode back to his dorm. 

———

He was worried. He’d called her three times and texted her at least twenty. She hadn’t responded to a single one all night. It was one thing to get dumped, but another for her not to be in her Tuesday morning class. He peered through the door at the old man who’d clearly been called in to cover for her at the last minute. 

Again he rode to her apartment, and still there was no answer. What if she was sick? Or, fuck, what if someone had broken in. He stood in front of the old man’s door. He had no reason to help him, but Geralt had to try. The man answered and his little wife came right over to see who was calling. 

He lied and said he was her teaching assistant and that he needed to retrieve some papers to grade. They had her key in the event of an emergency or if a package needed to be put inside. The old woman put the key in the lock. “You know, we heard screaming over here this weekend. She insisted it was the tv, but I think she must have had a man here. Maybe her beau is a bad sort and she’s in trouble.” 

He turned to the wall and smirked. The woman’s mind had jumped just as fast as his had. She fumbled, panicking at the thought her little neighbor had been hurt. “Harold, help me with this thing. I’ll never know how she deals with it!”

He jiggled the key and the lock released. “Yenna?” The woman pushed the door open and they all froze. The living room was empty. Every last thing was gone, from the pictures on the wall to her furniture. The couch where he’d found her sleeping just a few days prior, gone. 

He stepped into the middle of the room, shellshocked. The kitchen, bathroom, bedroom - all abandoned. His stomach hurt. Why had she gone? _Where_ had she gone? And why hadn’t she told him.

Unless, she disappeared to get away from _him_. He thought he might be sick.


End file.
